Acme Presents: 7 Ridiculous Deaths of Chris
by DSLeo
Summary: In the spirit of total insanity, here's how Chris dies. One bit per season in this oneshot. I need a hobby.
1. Chapter 1

**Acme Presents: 7 ridiculous deaths of Chris**

Disclaimer: I don't even own the DVDs, let alone anything else.

Summary: In the spirit of total insanity, here's how Chris dies. One bit per season in this oneshot. I need a hobby.

Rating: T

Genre: Parody/Humor

AN: One vignette per season, actual episodes mentioned, unrelated to each other. These are all utterly ridiculous, and none are meant to be taken seriously, or as suggestions for ways to be rid of anyone in real life. Title comes from... You'll see.

GG

* * *

 **Season One: Christopher Returns**

"Okay, that's it!" shrieked Lorelai Gilmore, wielding a cleaver from the knife block in the kitchen of the Gilmore mansion. "I officially _hate_ Friday night dinners!"

"Are Grandma and Grandpa okay?"

"Kid, we're ten steps from the front door and total freedom here, how about we focus?"

"On what?" wailed Rory, wringing her hands around the handle of a broom. "Imminent gory death?"

"Oh for... How many times have we seen zombie movies?" chided Lorelai, skulking through the foyer. "Perky, brave heroines never die!"

"Neither do virgins," agreed Rory, calming slightly. "Okay. But we can't run very fast."

"Have I taught you nothing?" hissed Lorelai, stepping out of her heels. She handed one stiletto to her daughter. "Go for eyes."

"I thought we have to behead them?"

"Do you see an axe around here?"

"Or shoot them in the brain?" provided Rory, hyperventilating.

"Again with the choice of weaponry available to us, so sorry Richard and Emily don't keep medieval halberds or machine guns around!"

"But what _happened_?"

Lorelai stopped short, blinking at her daughter in shock. "You're kidding, right? I told you this town was full of zombies!"

"I thought you meant voodoo ones, not creepy George Romero ones! And we gotta get Grandpa and Grandma!"

Lorelai paused, calming her breathing. "Rory, honey, they have a safe room. That's where they went, okay?"

Rory's lower lip wobbled. "They didn't take us?"

"My fault," said Lorelai grimly, "it used to be by the kitchen, but they must've moved it when Mom wanted a solarium. Okay, okay, let's be calm. We're Jamie Lee Curtis, we're surviving this, got it?"

"I hate you," mumbled Rory.

"Hey, once again, not my fault, and your grandmother's the one who hired a maid who wants brain matter for an entree. Now, I open this door, I whack 'em, you get in that car, and you _drive_ , you hear me?"

"Wait, I can't drive!"

"Turn key, push stick to D, press right-hand pedal to go, do not stop till you get to Luke."

"Why Luke?"

Lorelai smiled. "If anyone can handle zombie apocalypse, it's Luke."

"What about you?"

For a moment, Lorelai cupped her daughter's cheek. "I love you, sweets."

"I love you too, Mom." After a moment, she added, "Uh, but what about Dad?"

"Oh, Emily probably took him to the safe room," sighed Lorelai. "She always did like him. Now, we got Zelda the Zombie in the kitchen, but there's a gardener unaccounted for... On three, and no looking back. If I get to the car okay, then okay. If I don't... You go to Luke, got it?"

Rory nodded, white-faced. "Am I gonna wake up soon?"

"You bet." Heart pounding, Lorelai flung open the massive front door and heard a grunt. The somewhat stunned-looking gardener stumbled into the shrubbery, arms flailing.

Rory ran, screaming, "Die, you gray freaks, die!" despite the absence of any such creatures, and flung herself into the car.

Lorelai was nearly there when a figure popped out of the shadows of the house and lurched forward. "Mom!"

Lorelai turned, saw, and gave a startled shriek. The cleaver forgotten, she kicked the recently-returned-from-the-dead Christopher in the groin. It didn't seem to have any effect, other than puzzling him.

"Oh crap," yipped Lorelai, and then swung the cleaver with both hands. "Hi- _yah_!"

Rory blanked out for a moment.

Then her mother was in the jeep, yelling, "Doors locked, seat belts!"

"Mom?" whimpered Rory as she reversed out of the nightmare of Gilmore mansion. "Was that..."

"Yep, kid. Sorry," said Lorelai grimly, eyes tightly focused on the road. "I always figured I'd take his head off someday, but I didn't think it'd get that _literal_."

Police cars rushed toward the Gilmore mansion they'd just fled. And that was the start and the end of the Great Hartford Zombie Apocalypse.

* * *

 **Season Two: Presenting Lorelai Gilmore**

A certain softness crept over Lorelai Gilmore's face, watching as Christopher stood atop the crappy staircase with its crappy banister to escort their daughter down. He'd finally come through. This once of the many times, he'd come through.

She could tell Rory was asking him to not let her fall. She smiled, eyes tearing, ignoring her mother's bitter comments about Lorelai's past failures.

He'd blown into town and asked her to marry him last year. She'd said no, and of course it turned out that his business was failing. What was it with Chris? Why was it he showed up begging for her love when he'd failed at something?

It was a disease with them, she concluded. A childhood having dreams beyond their parentally-decreed fates, an adolescence shared in rebellion... Then nothing. Only random visits when Christopher needed consolation. It worried Lorelai, that he planned to stay around the area, more or less. She was glad for Rory, but anxious that she'd get back in the habit of fleeing to Chris when she was overwhelmed. She'd let him into her life too many times when Rory was a tiny baby because of that. He'd never stayed. She had to remember that. Chris was like a tornado. It was exciting, but it always caused damage.

She held her breath until they reached the bottom of the staircase and Dean took over, guiding Rory aside.

"Oh thank God, now there's just the stupid fan dance," she sighed to herself.

She beamed at her daughter, who mimed wiping sweat from her brow, and was startled by Chris sliding an arm around her. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she said warmly, but stepped clear of his body.

"Problem, Lore?"

"Lorelai," she said wearily. "Three syllables, Chris, try to catch up. Even Monosyllable Man in the diner can figure it out. Lor-e-lai. Can you say Lorelai, boys and girls?"

"Hey, sorry, stand down, just asking, wow, I forgot the effect Emily has on you."

"Wish I could," grumbled Lorelai.

"So, you, me, champagne, sound familiar?" he coaxed.

It did. Soothingly familiar. Enchantingly familiar. Here was the one refuge she'd had in childhood...

Which ended when the stick turned pink, and he said "Yes" to anything their parents yelled, and not once changed a diaper or handled a feeding or even been at the hospital.

Why that thought overrode the others, Lorelai wasn't sure. It was unlike her to retain her maturity in Christopher's presence.

Then again, their daughter was at a debutante ball. It was shaking Lorelai's faith in her own youth.

"So, uh, I should... Get a drink!" decided Chris. "Martini?"

She opened her mouth to say yes, and said instead, "No, ginger ale, I have to drive."

She could smell it now. The deceit. The not-quite-telling-the-truth thing. There was more to the Volvo than met the eye. Much more.

He hadn't grown up. Someone had changed him.

He wouldn't do it for terrified teen Lorelai and baby Rory, but he'd do it now.

Her mother grabbed her elbow. "Hey! Ow!"

"Talk to me this instant, what is going on, is he staying, are you finally going to marry him and do the right thing? Well? Tell me that just this once you haven't screwed up, Lorelai!"

Christopher appeared, carrying a drink in one hand, and said quietly, "Emily. Uh. I was kinda not gonna mention this..."

"Oh here we go," growled Lorelai, arms folded, foot tapping, rather like an elegantly clad Fury from legend. "I knew it. Volvo? Suits? Well?"

"I, uh, in Boston, there's, uh... Her name is Sherry, she's great, and, uh..."

So much for Chris's oft-declared undying devotion to her and that niggling hope of a back-up plan she'd held onto for all those years. "Oh my God, I'm such an idiot," she groaned. "You finally come through, and of course now it's when... And... God, Chris, why couldn't you do this for me and Rory? Say, ten years ago?"

Chris flushed. "Lore, I'm..."

"Lorelai!" she snapped. "That's it, I can't do this, you come into town like you're gonna be here as in really, really _be here_ and it turns out once again you're leaving, and I can't believe I let myself get all hot and bothered by you in a tux just because this one damn time you didn't bail on Rory!"

Emily scowled through a tiny smile. "Lorelai, don't be crude! Christopher, come with me, please, you shouldn't drink after driving."

"I'm staying at..."

"No, no, I think it's best you come with me, and stay in our guest house," purred Emily.

"Oh no, Mom, don't," whispered Lorelai intently into Emily's ear. "Do not try to force this. Please!"

"Leave him to me, Lorelai."

In despair, Lorelai found a chair and sat down to watch the fan dance. Why did she ever think Christopher could be counted on? Why did she ever think he'd end up Prince Charming instead of Mr. Right-for-the-Moment?

Now she understood why the other mothers cried. It was the death of youth and Disney-inspired dreams, when a daughter became a debutante.

It was a thought she almost shared with her mother, who was gardening happily the next afternoon, when something occurred to Lorelai. "Mom? I don't remember this being a flower bed."

"Oh, I thought it'd be a lovely spot for something bright and colorful, don't you agree?" said Emily serenely. "I was inspired, so at breakfast I told the gardener to make sure he made a good deep bed, and see it was clear of tree roots and all other impediments."

Disturbed by her mother's glowing eyes, Lorelai ventured, "How deep?"

"About six feet, I believe." Emily tittered. "I originally planned on some fairly mature trees, but I reconsidered. So Jorge filled it back in, and now I can't decide. Tell me, what was, is, Christopher's favorite color?"

"Yellow?" guessed Lorelai wildly, pretending she didn't hear the verb tense change.

"I have just the thing, a lovely coreopsis I saw at Bitty Shelton's last garden party." Emily stood, smiling at the rectangular patch of earth. "Oh, and Lorelai?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"I doubt you'll see Christopher again. He seemed quite serious about this Sherry."

Lorelai looked from her mother's face to the fresh-turned dirt. "Yeah, he does. Good for him."

"Exactly, and much better for us all. Now where is that maid with the iced tea?"

* * *

 **Season Three: Dear Emily and Richard**

Memory Lane sucked.

Debutante dresses, screaming parents...

A diversion down the highway of the present in the form of Luke dating a lawyer who was super-skinny and pretty and all that Lorelai was not because Luke smiled at her even though she was a _lawyer_ whereas Lorelai probably couldn't get Luke's attention that way if she _did_ give the man a lap dance...

And here sat Lorelai Gilmore watching Christopher Hayden rush to be at Sherry's side during the birth of _their_ daughter, and where had he been for Rory? For Lorelai? Hiding in his room from Francine and Straub, dancing to their tune, doing whatever he wanted while she scrubbed tile grout in order to afford diapers.

Rory cuddled against her. "Mom?"

"It's okay, hon," said Lorelai absently. "All women scream bloody murder in labor. It's normal."

Her daughter cringed into a tiny ball of fear. "That's _normal_?"

"Yep."

"Oh God, I'm never having kids. Or sex. Or... Never."

"Hang onto that thought," counseled Lorelai, and stroked Rory's hair. "I can't believe she wanted you to fax stuff for her."

Rory mustered up a wan giggle. "Yeah, kinda awkward."

"Kinda? Try giraffe-on-roller-skates awkward!"

From beyond the double doors a blood-curdling scream rose. Lorelai instantly hugged Rory to her, protecting her daughter's ears. She wished she could protect her own.

It was Sherry, shrieking, " _I hate you you did this I hate you die you son of a..._ "

"Happy Birthday to someone!" yodeled Lorelai hurriedly to cover the rest of that scream. "Happy Birthday! To someone! Happy birthday, dear, um, someones..."

There was a crash, a metallic clatter, and much yelling.

A few moments later, a nurse rushed out. "Haydens?"

"Us," sighed Lorelai forlornly.

"Are you relatives?"

"No," said Lorelai as Rory said, "Yes."

"I'm not, she's the half-sister to the newborn," Lorelai clarified. "Why?"

"Are there grandparents?"

"Yes," said Lorelai slowly, standing with a sense of dread. "Um. Is Sherry okay?"

"She's fine, but Mr. Hayden isn't," said the nurse. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

"Mom?" asked Rory, plainly baffled.

"Don't look at me, sweets."

The matter was clarified somewhat when hospital security, then the police, arrived. Wide-eyed, Rory and Lorelai overheard one suited police detective mutter, "...broke his hand, then she punched him in the, ah, y'know, and..."

The other police officer, that one in uniform, gulped audibly. "Oh man. My wife's due in two months!"

"Yeah, don't go in," said the detective, unaware of the audience with very good eavesdropping skills. "That last push? She punched him so hard she snapped his neck. Dropped like a rock." The detective grunted. "I tell you, one woman on the jury, they'll be lucky to get a conviction for misdemeanor assault."

* * *

 **Season Four: The Fundamental Things Apply**

Flummoxed, Lorelai pondered the puzzle of movie night with Luke. Gut versus dating. His gut versus her dating. Gut telling him instantly if it'll work. Yet, if so, whence Rachel? Why Nicole? On the other hand, her dating... Yeah, an infinite store of bad date anecdotes, more than she ever wanted to imagine, and worse than any she ever told her daughter.

Luke's gut told him right away if he'd be comfortable with someone.

He had never asked Lorelai to anything. He had never asked her to hang out. Hell, Lorelai grumped to herself, he hadn't even asked her to cross the dang street. Years of flirting and almost-maybe-moments... And it turned out she and his gut didn't get along. Luke's gut hated her. She had misread him more than she'd misread Christopher, and that said quite a lot. Apparently, Lorelai mused, the closer she got to knowing a man, the less she actually understood them, and the further from her they wanted to get.

She was moping about this fact when Rory called to tell her that a guy in a laundry room had turned her down for a date, and suddenly, mid-pout, Rory shrieked, " _Oh my God turn on the news_!"

"Why would I do that?" Lorelai replied, trying to decide between Passionate Pomegranate and Black Velvet for her toenails. "It's always depressing."

"Mom, just turn it on, oh my _God_! Mom! It's _Dad_!"

"Whoa, wait, what channel?"

"All of them!"

"Great, what did Chris do now," mumbled Lorelai, and turned on the TV. She surfed to an all-news channel, and dropped both nail polish bottles. Fortunately, they were tightly capped. "Oh my God. Rory, honey, is that his Volvo?"

"Yeah! Mom, that's Dad's Volvo! Oh my God! That's Dad's car! I know the license plate, they always tell you to know your parents' license plates so in case of emergency police will know what car to look for and..."

"Rory, honey, I'm on my way to your dorm, don't move," said Lorelai, and shoved her feet into the first shoes she found. Purse in hand, coat more or less over an arm, she flew out the front door and covered the miles to Yale in record time.

Rory was crying on the sofa, and Paris of all people was patting her shoulder. The blonde looked relieved to see Lorelai. "Oh thank God, I have no idea what to do with all these sticky excretions." With a nod at the TV, she added, "Gravity. Fundamental force of the universe. Don't mess with it."

"Thank you, Paris," said Lorelai tightly, and cuddled her daughter. "I'm here, babe, I'm here, it's okay, it's okay."

Rory wailed and pointed at the TV.

There was the rear end of a silver Volvo. The front end of it was completely hidden under what appeared to be an anvil. A very large anvil. Lorelai did a double-take.

The anchor said, "Acme Products has not yet returned our calls, but sources insist that the six-ton anvil was secured properly to the semi tractor-trailer transporting it to the Looney Tunes theme park due to open next year outside Warner, Massachusetts. At this time, only one fatality is known, the driver of the gray Volvo that was approaching the overpass when the anvil snapped free and fell to the highway below. Police have not yet released the identity of the victim, pending notification of family, and..." There was a silent yet somehow audible shudder. "Recovery of the body. Stay tuned for more on this bizarre accident on Interstate 95 outside Boston."

Lorelai turned off the TV. She cradled Rory. She took out her phone, and with a little help from directory assistance, tracked down Sherry. "Is GG okay?"

"What? Yes, of course, she's with the nanny," said Sherry. "Oh God, what do I do? I can't plan a funeral, I'm too busy!"

Lorelai mumbled a pleasant, "So sorry for your loss," and hung up. She had a distraught daughter to console, and a very sudden urge to yell, "Beep-beep!", which would do no one's sanity any good whatsoever.

* * *

 **Season Five: Jews and Chinese Food**

The horrors were rapidly piling up for Lorelai Gilmore. Her daughter halfway to Nookie-Ville with that Huntzberger slimeball, Christopher drunk, Luke angry, Emily scheming, Luke breaking up with her in Doose's... It was definitely more than one woman could stand in a short period of time.

She couldn't blame Luke, really, for wanting out. _She_ wanted out.

Luke had a point, of course. She should've seen it coming. When didn't Christopher decide that she was his savior and his one-and-only when he was, frankly, without anyone else to lean on? Sherry left him, one of the few things for which Lorelai could applaud her, and dumped GG on him, for which Lorelai despised her. Not because Sherry had no right to whisk off to France for whatever reason. Because only a damn fool would ever leave Christopher in charge of a child. Everyone knew that. _Everyone_. And naturally she'd walked right into the "Oh I need help with GG" trap. Not to say Christopher didn't need help, but he could hire a really good team of nannies. He could afford Nanny McPhee and Mary Poppins and Fran Fine, too.

No, it was her fault. Yet if she turned Christopher away, two things could result. One would be that he'd back even further out of Rory's life, if such a thing was possible. The other was that GG would suffer.

If Luke could just grasp that Lorelai was doing this for Chris the way he'd taken in Jess for Liz...

Not that it mattered. They weren't talking. She'd successfully dodged him at the production of _The Fiddler on the Roof_ , and that had taken skill, determination, and a lot of ice cream. Watching those other women flirt and bat their eyelashes at him? Torture. Karma was, truly, a witch with a capital B.

She poked forlornly at a carton of leftover kung pao chicken. Why, precisely, was it always kung pao chicken? Who or what was kung pao? She never remembered ordering kung pao chicken, yet some ended up in her fridge every time.

Pondering this mystery, as well as the chances of not crying herself to sleep, Lorelai almost didn't hear her phone ring.

"Lorelai, pick up, it's your mother, it's important."

Lorelai moaned, but picked up. "Hey, Mom, I'm screening everyone, not just you, please not now, is Dad okay?"

"Your father is fine, why wouldn't he be? I just had the most distressing news from Bitty Shelton, and she heard it from the chief of the Hartford police department himself, and, well, Lorelai, I really don't know where to begin!"

"Happy honeymoon?" suggested Lorelai rather too acidly for her mother's taste. The vow renewal would forever be marked in Lorelai's memory on her list of Top Ten Worst Days Ever.

"Lorelai! Be ridiculous later! You have very bad news to tell Rory."

Scowling, Lorelai asked in confusion, "I do?"

"Yes. Oh, and do you have a decent black dress? I mean for an actual daytime occasion, not some sleazy little..."

Lorelai bit down on a curse and said through her teeth, "I have some very nice clothes, Mother, what is it?"

"Apparently, Christopher was at Francine's, with that adorable little GG..."

"Yeah, adorable," mumbled Lorelai, rolling her eyes. GG shrieked at a pitch that could shatter crystal.

"And he choked to death!"

Abruptly brought back to the moment, Lorelai yelped, "What? Who? How? Mom?"

"He was showing GG that sweet-and-sour pork was good to eat..."

"What was he doing showing a kid that young how to eat Chinese food!"

"How would I know?" shrilled Emily, and Lorelai could almost see her mother wave a dismissive hand. "The point is, Lorelai, you have to tell Rory her father died."

"Of sweet-and-sour pork?"

"Yes, Lorelai," droned Emily in that too-patient tone, "of sweet-and-sour pork. No, of asphyxiation!"

"By sweet-and-sour pork," repeated Lorelai numbly. "Uh. Okay? But what about GG?"

"Oh, Francine's swearing she'll raise her."

Lorelai winced. Poor GG. "Yeah. Okay. I'll, um, I'll go to Yale and find Rory and..."

"Good, I'm sure someone will call with the details as soon as they're arranged."

"Mom?"

"Yes, Lorelai?" crooned Emily, suddenly sympathetic.

"Is this a prank? Joke? I mean... There's a lot of idiotic ways to die, but seriously, all those servants and no one knew the Heimlich maneuver?"

"Francine's never had any judgment in hiring employees," her mother verbally shrugged, "I'm sure it never occurred to them."

It was a small thing, a superstitious thing, but before she left for Yale, Lorelai first cleared all old Chinese food out of her refrigerator. She threw out all the menus relevant to Chinese food. Then, and only then, did she decide the house was safe from the marauding ghosts of Chinese take-out past.

* * *

 **Season Six: Partings**

Lorelai felt altogether too numb to be crying, and too warm to be clothed, and too drunk to be _stoned_ like Demerol-named-my-kid-after-me-stoned. Yet all were true. Danger. Warning! After-school special and movie-of-the-week alert!

Her arms were floppy as she pushed at Chris. "Wait. Hold on. I don't feel good."

"Shh, relax, I've got you..." he purred, pushing his mouth at hers and trying to maneuver her back into the cushions.

Lorelai squinted. Tequila. Chris, tequila, her. Bad. Always bad. Worse than bad. In fact, it was bad like a Roger Corman late-night movie bad. _Attack of the Giant Leeches_ bad. _It Conquered the World_ bad. _Battle Beyond the Stars_... No, wait, that one was almost mockably good.

She leaned forward, making Chris chortle with triumph, and focused her blurring vision on...

An orange-hued pill bottle?

"Whazzat?" she mumbled.

"The stuff for your headache."

A surge of nausea hit Lorelai a split second after her fuzzy brain realized that was _not_ an everyday over-the-counter medicine bottle.

"Oh no!" she yelled, and vomited before she had a chance to free herself from Christopher's grasp, or his couch.

While he was cursing in disgust, she was scrambling for the bathroom. She locked the door. Her stomach kept heaving. Christopher pounded on the door, calling her name, but Lorelai hung onto the toilet for dear life, shuddering and retching for what felt like eternity.

She rinsed her face, mouth, and rubbed toothpaste over her teeth with a fingertip. She rinsed her mouth again, drank some water from her cupped hands, and felt her head clear. Grief? Intact. Loss? Right there. Self-worth? Where it always was, firmly in the cellar. But through it all arose a burning outrage.

She unlocked the bathroom door, pushing Chris away from it by pointing his own nail scissors at his eyeball. " _You doped me!_ "

"What? No! I had painkillers, you said you had a headache!"

Lorelai snatched up her cardigan, her purse, and hopped into her shoes. "Guess what, genius? If you'd been around the last twenty years, you'd know something. Demerol makes me loopy. Percocet makes me throw up! Who the hell gives _Percocet_ to someone with _tequila_? Oh wait! You!"

"Hey! I didn't mean anything by it!"

"I can't believe I trusted you! I can't believe I ever believed you'd be a _friend_!" screamed Lorelai, and when Chris touched her arm, she slapped him.

He reared back, wide-eyed.

"Is that how you get lucky? They ask for plain Tylenol, you give them freaking _Percocet_? You _pervert_!"

She slammed the door hard, and ran for her life. The drive home passed in a blur.

She crawled into her own house, pushed chairs against the doors, hugged Paul Anka to her, and burst into tears. "I've ruined everything, everything," she told him, and sobbed herself to sleep curled on the floor with her dog.

She woke to find a cup of tea by her nose, and she was in her bed.

She screamed. Her mind babbled _OhmyGodChrisfollowedmeandgotmeand_...

"Geez!"

Chris never said "Geez." Not like that, anyway.

Shaking, Lorelai stared trembling at Luke, who rose from the chair in the corner.

"What happened to you?"

She curled away, crying again.

"Lorelai, damn it, you can't just talk to Anna about _my_ daughter and have some sort of psychotic break in the middle of town and not explain yourself!"

Somehow, Luke's anger cut through her fear. She gulped the tepid ginger tea, felt herself recover a tiny shred of her courage, and she snarled, "Why do you care if Chris tried to rape me? Aren't you too busy _processing_ something from six months ago?"

Luke stumbled back a step.

"That's right," spat Lorelai, tugging her bedcovers to her chin. "Chris was the only person who had time for me! And I asked for _Tylenol_ , Luke, just regular old aceta-whatever, and he gave me freaking _Percocet_ with _tequila_ , and I throw up if you give me Percocet, or I'd have passed out cold! And never known! What he did! So, come on, Luke!" Her voice rose to a hurricane's scream. "Tell me how awful I am! Tell me how it's all my fault! Tell me how you not loving me is my fault! Tell me how I betrayed you by thinking I could trust someone I've known for thirty years! Go on! _Why aren't you hating me!_ "

Luke recoiled, hit her dresser, and almost fell down. "Are you okay?"

Lorelai gestured energetically. "Do I look okay? I am so far from okay I'm kayo!"

All at once, flannel-clad arms were around her, and her face was smothered against a flannel-clad chest. "Oh my God. We have to call the police, we have to... Oh my God... I can't... This is too much..."

"Whoops, it's too much, there's your cue to leave," mumbled Lorelai resentfully. "Just go, okay? Can we pretend I don't exist? Please?"

Luke squashed her again. "I was so scared, Lorelai..."

"Can we play Dr. Phil later? I really just want to shower about eight thousand times and..."

He pulled back, eyes boring into hers. "He didn't..."

"I told you," sighed Lorelai, flushed with shame. "Two shots of tequila, I started to feel _really_ bad, worse than two shots of tequila should make me, and then I threw up. On his couch. And in his bathroom. I slapped him and came home. Okay? Wait, how'd you get in? I blocked the doors!"

"It doesn't work if the chair has wheels."

"Oh," said Lorelai. "Just go, okay? He kissed me. He had a hand on me. You're right, I should've seen it coming, I'm a terrible cheater, just like you always said I'd be, _why_ do I keep thinking he's still that dorky kid who played cops and robbers with me?"

"I have to..." said Luke abruptly, and left her alone on her bed. She heard him go downstairs, and heard the front door bang shut.

She cried in the shower, and climbed exhausted into clean pajamas before she wrapped herself up in blankets on the bed. Warm weather notwithstanding, she was _cold_.

She woke to find Luke stroking her hair, soothing her out of a nightmare.

"Why're you here? You don't even like me anymore."

"The police need to talk to you. About him."

Lorelai blinked at Luke in dreary expectation.

"Uh, well, he must've tried to follow you and he had an accident."

"Oh my God, GG!" she cried.

"No, she's okay, I mean, not okay, he left her alone, but he must've... How much did he drink?"

"Couple shots? Same as me. Minus the pills, obviously. Save me the lecture, I will never ever take pills from anyone again, even people I know." She held up her hand in what she hoped was a scout-ish salute.

Luke grimaced. "Can I finish?"

She shrugged, mouth downturned.

"You know the sign that says _Welcome to Stars Hollow_?"

"Sure."

"He ran into it."

Lorelai flinched. "Oh. How..."

"And it snapped in half."

"Oh."

"And it sort of, uh, it went through the windshield." Luke shut his eyes and babbled out, "And the signpost impaled him in the chest."

" _What_?"

"Coop said it's one of those freak accidents, one in a million chance."

Lorelai dropped back into the pillows. She wasn't sure why, but it seemed somewhat fitting that Stars Hollow had been the death of Chris.

* * *

 **Season Seven: The Long Morrow**

There were infinite numbers of ways to die.

Lorelai Gilmore contemplated some.

She had to tell Luke she'd gone to see Christopher.

She plodded toward the diner, frowning as she saw flashing lights.

Her heart jumped and fell. A car had driven into the diner.

"I'm fine!" yelled Kirk like he'd won a race, as he waved at the wreckage.

Luke was standing on the sidewalk with a stunned look on his face. It said: _I lost my life here, why am I still alive?_

When he saw her, he stiffened, going into what Lorelai had dubbed his _combat mode_.

"What..." She asked, then followed up with, "Are you okay? Are you hurt, I mean, physically hurt?"

"No."

That sounded far less than glad.

"What..."

"Traffic light. Taylor. Kirk. Behold," added Luke bitterly. "A few feet over, it'd be the damn ice cream shop, but no, had to be my diner."

Lorelai gasped as she saw a black body bag being toted toward an ambulance. "Oh my God, April? Lane? Caesar? Zach? April?"

"You said that already."

His arms were folded. His mouth was a thin line. His face was stone. Lorelai had a bad feeling she'd not only lost him, she'd really truly and completely _lost_. Period.

"Who?" she asked at last. "Taylor?"

"No such luck."

She flinched and cowered away. Right. She pushed, he didn't jump, and both those things were both true and false at the same time, but what mattered now was...

"It's Rory's dad."

The world whited out.

Lorelai looked up, wondering how she'd come to sit down on the sidewalk. "What?"

"He came in, first thing, sat down at your spot at the counter like he owned _my_ diner," growled Luke, eyes dark with rage, "and said he'd come to Stars Hollow to show you how much he loves you."

Lorelai gagged. "Oh no. No. He doesn't... Didn't... It's not..."

"Why would he think he could do that"

The accusation startled her into one of her own. "We're going to argue about this when we're broken up and he's dead?!"

Luke's face said that yes, they were.

"After you said no, I didn't want to be alone. I do really stupid things alone. I've known... I knew?" Tears sprang to her eyes. "Since we were little. He's Rory's dad and Sherry left _him_ so I thought he'd understand how I felt, and we talked, and I know you'll never forgive me, I broke the rules, I didn't... Wait, no, you didn't want me anymore, I don't have to obey your rules about who I can talk to... Gah!" she cried, and buried her face in her arms, curling her knees to her chest.

"You didn't sleep with him?"

" _What_?!"

Luke opened his mouth, as if uncertain how to undo what that question had done.

Lorelai flew to her feet. "Thanks for thinking I'm a tramp, no, I went to _talk_ to him! Talk! That thing you don't do with me anymore! Oh wait, right, sleeping together is another thing you don't do with me anymore, I can see how you'd confuse the two!"

"Geez, again?" grimaced Luke. "Can't you do this in private?"

"You just called me a tramp in public, you can get called a selfish jerk in public!"

With that, Lorelai wheeled around and marched to the ambulance. "I need to see him."

The poor underpaid shmuck asked, "Are you..."

"We have a kid together."

They unzipped the black plastic ever so slightly.

Chris seemed to be smirking. Even in death, he was so very _Christopher_.

She exhaled, wishing she could stop crying. She'd cried nonstop for far too long.

"C'mon, doll, let's get you home, that's one helluva shock," crooned Babette, hustling over. "Who'da thunk a traffic light would kill someone, right? Right. C'mon now, shh, it's okay."

"Yeah, that's why I'm going to die single, surrounded by stray animals and singing duets with my mirror," said Lorelai, then stopped. "Wait. Kirk!"

Kirk looked at her like a whipped puppy expecting worse.

"Good aim," yelled Lorelai.

Confused, Kirk sat back down on the trunk of the car.

"Y'know, doll face, you're taking this pretty good," commented Babette.

"Well, let's see, in the last forty-eight hours I lost my self-respect, my fiancé, and someone who was my friend for thirty years. How should someone take that, exactly?"

"Well, you ain't screaming naked down the street like Mrs. Cassini when she found out about her son's affair with her daughter's husband."

"Huh," said Lorelai. "Naked?"

"Not even a pair of granny panties, hon, it was _awful_."

* * *

AN: So, the tally is: Death by cleaver while a zombie; death by Emily; death by angry woman in childbirth; death by giant Acme anvil (see Wile E. Coyote cartoons if the reference is unknown to you); death by sweet-and-sour pork asphyxiation; death by Stars Hollow sign; and death by Kirk. I'm not sure which of those is least likely, to be honest. I'd put my money on Emily for most likely.

Again, not a Chris-hater, so much as "Chris is a convenient target because the show made him one" sort of thing.

END


	2. Chapter 2

7 More Deaths of Chris

Chapter Two

Disclaimer: It remains not mine. Shocking, ain't it?

Rating: T

Genre: Parody/Humor

AN: The first chapter of this was well-received so I went onto my flash drive and retrieved the _other_ six ideas I'd written, plus one I improvised because a gnome had to occur.

As before, each one is tagged to an episode, but are not connected or related to each other. Absurdity is intended. Reality is suspended.

GG GG GG

 **Season One: Christopher Returns**

Michel yawned. People were so boring. So stupid.

Then he saw that annoying man on his annoying motorcycle that made all that annoying noise, and rolled his eyes. Annoying Motorcycle Man had disrupted Lorelai Gilmore's life, which meant Michel's life was unforgivably inconvenienced. Lorelai had expected him to forego the eBay auction for a rare Celine Dion demo CD in favor of actual inn-related _work_.

It was a foolish, foolish person who got between Michel and Celine.

Whipping out the silk tie he kept at the front desk as a spare, because Michel never knew when he might need to impress someone with his savoir faire and impeccable fashion sense, Michel strolled to the door and said, "Ah, Annoying Motorcycle Man, Miss Gilmore is busy, you know, with her job, her work, that thing we poor peasants must do to afford our comforts."

Christopher Hayden frowned at him. "Look, I just... She can't say no to me again, she and I are meant to be, ever since we were six."

Michel cocked a groomed eyebrow and considered his options. "Come, I will take you to a quiet spot and send Lorelai to you for privacy," he said smoothly, and without a visible wince for his Gucci loafers, trod the wholly inadequate rustic path from the Independence Inn to the nearby lake.

"Ah, _tres_ roman- _teak_ ," Michel sighed theatrically as they reached a large willow. "Now, tell me, before I fetch Lorelai like a bone because of course I am your oh-so-obedient dog, what no did she say to you?"

Christopher shoved at his hair, which was moussed to perfection despite his motorcycle helmet. Michel mentally noted to find out what product the man used. "She can't not marry me!"

"Ah," said Michel, smiling blandly. "I see."

"She doesn't even need all this," said Christopher, gesturing at Mia's inn. "She can just come with me and..."

Christopher chattered on, Michel tipping his head to one side in a perfect display of attention that was hiding rising irritation.

First of all, if this man took away Lorelai, then he, Michel, had more work to do.

Second, what sort of pathetic excuse for a man did not even consider that his child was involved in all this road-trip-taking? The one before him, apparently.

Finally, while Michel carped a great deal, he privately gave Lorelai credit for knowing how to turn Goodwill into a good look. It wasn't just anyone who could manage that. Annoying chatter and giggling aside, Lorelai was also a fair manager. She understood his little moments. His charm, if one could call it such.

Michel raised a hand. A Frenchman had to do what a Frenchman had to do.

"You are too stupid," he drawled, "I cannot listen to you anymore."

Caught mid-gabble, Christopher stared at Michel in a way that reminded Michel of store mannequins, a secret phobia of his. Those terrible glossy eyes always _following_ him. _Dieu_!

He stepped quickly forward, whipped the silk tie around Christopher's neck, and twisted. "If you ruin my nails," he murmured to the gasping man, "I will be very upset."

Chris writhed, scrambled, and clawed, but Michel was unmoved. In fact, he was bored. Yoga offered more challenge.

Christopher fell to the ground.

Michel kicked experimentally, and the body rolled raggedly into the lake. Swans trumpeted alarmingly and rushed to the noise.

Michel strolled back to his desk, used the silk tie to polish away scuff marks on his loafers, and hissed when he saw the label. "Oh, I was robbed!"

"Problem, Michel?" asked Lorelai in passing.

"No, no problem," he said cheerfully, "I was sold this tie as pure silk, and it has..." he shuddered. " _Polyester_."

"I'm sure you'll survive, Michel."

" _Oui_ , of course, but the sales clerk may not," grumped Michel, tossed the tie into the trash, and returned to the computer to see if he had yet been outbid for the Celine Dion demo CD.

GG GG GG

 **Season Two: Presenting Lorelai Gilmore**

Rory Gilmore hummed nervously. She was a cute cotton ball, right? Or was it a cottony cute ball? Why did she agree to this debutante thing? Maybe her mother was right and she should slide down the banister. Emily would never forgive it, but Hartford's high society would never forget it. She might even make friends. Or something.

She exhaled as her father walked to her, smiling with that Christopher-gleam in his eyes. She took his extended arm, anxiety causing her to glow rather excessively in the region of her armpits. Ladies did not sweat, after all. They glowed. Until they needed a shower, apparently.

"Don't let me fall?" she whispered.

Chris's smile was tremendous, dazzling, and for that one moment, Rory understood why she and her mother always forgave him and always hoped he'd become a grown-up partner-dad-person.

Maybe this time, thought Rory. A Volvo was serious. Volvos were quiches and brunches and recycling, not junk food on the open road with no libraries in sight.

As they moved to the head of the staircase, a shriek of fury struck them. It was a good-looking woman of some blonde-ish variety, all teeth and workout-video trimness, and she was _scary_.

" _Chris!_ "

Rory knew it was impossible, but she swore she heard her mother groan, "Oh no," in a way that indicated Lorelai was thinking, "Chris, you fill-in-profanity-of-the-week".

Then Rory realized that was _her_ thinking it.

She pulled away, a little afraid, what with all the eyes of society on her, and the puffy cotton-ball dress and Dean smiling up at her with what she hoped was admiration and reassurance.

"Sh-sh-shuh-Sherry!" yelped her father. "Not now, I'm..."

"Here for your ex and her kid, yes, I know, your mother wanted to know why I wasn't coming with you!"

"Uh, uh, uh," said Christopher, and Rory backed up a careful step. She knew that stutter. Her father tended to use it when he'd been caught, and it was so bad that Lorelai was screaming at him.

Only this woman was not her mother. She looked wildly for her mother, and knew by the gasps and mumbles that Lorelai was on the way. If growing up under Emily's roof had taught Lorelai anything, it was how to run in four-inch heels and formal wear.

Tears began to threaten. She had Dreamy Dean, Catastrophe Chris, her grandparents were arguing, her mom was in Hurricane Lorelai mode, and this _woman_ was making her more nervous than she'd been to start. She'd passed _glow_ and surrendered to _sweat_.

"You cancelled our weekend in St. Bart's for _this_?"

"Hey!" roared Lorelai, panting up, a hand to her chest to keep it from falling out of her regrettably strapless dress. " _That_ is my kid! And she's worth a thousand weekends in St. Bart's! A million! Who are _you_!"

"Sherry, this is Lorelai Gilmore, and, uh, Lore, this is, um..."

"Yeah, got it, Sherry, named after a drink, wow, really suits your, Chris, how about you name a kid Jim Beam or Dom Perignon, that'd be great, you're ruining Rory's night!" Eyes blazing blue murder, Lorelai glowered at Chris.

So did Sherry-whoever-she-was.

"Uh, so, yeah, Sherry's my girlfriend," said Chris in a tiny voice.

Lorelai and Rory both gasped, as if slapped.

Something in Rory snapped. She ran to her mother, who said, "Easy, kid," and then snarled, "How many _other_ times have you slept at our house when you had a _girlfriend_?"

"You're sleeping at _her_ house!"

"Uh," said Chris, backing away from the furious Sherry. "It's not like you think, Lore."

"It's Lorelai, Pinky, get some brain, would you?"

Someone in a very expensive and tacky dress spat, "You are ruining the ball!"

"Take your ball and..."

Rory squeezed her mom's arm.

"...Go home," finished Lorelai lamely. "Oh. My. God. Chris, do you _ever_ tell the truth?"

"I didn't lie!"

"No, you just didn't tell the truth! It's called a lie of omission!" yelled Sherry, who obviously didn't care about society matrons, girls in white, and the audience below. She shoved at Chris's shoulders with manicured nails. "And you're sleeping at your ex's _house_? You said this was an emergency business trip!"

Rory broke in with a shrill, "I'm _business_ to you?! Oh my God!"

Lorelai hugged her tight, red-faced, and said, "That's it, we're going home, you've upset _my_ kid enough. God, Chris, even when you manage to show up, you screw up!"

They heard him babbling a low, "Sherry, babe, listen..." as Lorelai turned Rory away, whispering to her, "Home?"

In tears, Rory nodded. "Can we get Luke food? I want Luke food. And chocolate. Will he make me a milkshake?"

"You got it, babe," murmured Lorelai, and kissed her forehead.

Emily rustled up, scowling. "What do you think you're doing!"

"Hey, we're not the ones making a scene, Mom, talk to your golden boy there," snapped Lorelai, and then Dean appeared.

Rory flew into his arms.

"Good catch," quipped Lorelai. "You ready to get out of the monkey house?"

"Oh yeah," said Dean with fervor.

There was a sudden shout of, " _Lying son of a..._ "

There should have been a tumble, a fall, a series of slapstick-era thumps.

The rickety staircase, however, lived up to its sadly accurate billing.

A shower of termite-chewed splinters fountained high in the air, then settled around the gaping hole where stairs had been.

Through the hush came a very pragmatic, "How far is it to the basement?"

"Somewhat over ten feet," stuttered someone in reply to Sherry.

"Okay," she said, "you're going to take me down there, and I'm going to make _sure_ he's dead. Nobody rearranges _my_ schedule!"

Emily's nostrils flared. "Well, at least Christopher was useful for once in his life," she sniffed. "Imagine if that staircase had given way when one of the girls was on it. It'd be scandalous!"

GG GG GG

 **Season Three: That'll Do, Pig**

Doing the books the old-fashioned way, Luke sat at a desk in his apartment above the diner and fumed. At himself, mostly. His nephew could do it. Jess and Rory were _dating_. Dating. That thing he couldn't do with much success anyway, let alone with _his_ Gilmore girl. Excuse 7,443? They'd just gotten back on good terms. A while ago.

Excuse 7,444? What if asking Lorelai for a date upset Jess or Rory? Rory was good for Jess. Yeah. He had to think of Jess.

Excuse 7,445? Was the same as his first excuse had been, lo those many years ago. What if Lorelai said no?

Women did say no to him. Not often. But they did. And that went back to his second excuse about making things complicated and he hated complicated and how had he gotten to the point where his seven thousandth excuse sounded like the same three he'd started with when Rory was still in junior high?

Worse, with the winter carnival approaching, he'd be forced to wrangle with Taylor yet again. About something utterly ridiculous, yet again. Where he'd get that special headache only Taylor and, sometimes, Kirk could inspire.

He grinned. He had a plan for Taylor this year. A little early Christmas present. He needed to tweak it, in the dead of night, with a stepladder, a measuring tape, and some very subtle work with a small motor, two wires, and the necessary finagling of the stop mechanism. With luck, Taylor would have more hair scared off his head, and Luke could laugh his ass off in private when the man demanded to know how Luke's coffee cup sign nearly brained him, when the sign itself would be right back where it started. Time involved in setting up this prank? Fourteen hours, not counting a little electrical work on the sly by a friend. Equipment? Forty-nine-ninety-six, four cents under his planned budget. Expression on Taylor's face? Oh, _priceless_.

Cheered, Luke quickly took out his schematic of the various components, committed it to memory once more, and sent it through the same shredder he used for all documents containing valuable information on its way to the recycling bin.

Below, he heard cries of shock, voices, and groaned. "Damn it, Jess," he said, and went downstairs to see how his nephew had wrecked the afternoon lull.

Upon reaching the scene on the sidewalk, he noted that the motor was indeed very good. The only trace of the yellow cup's rapid descent and equally rapid _ascent_ was the way it swung gently in the nonexistent breeze.

"Aw geez," said Luke, crouching to feel for a pulse. "What's he doing in town?"

"Dunno," said Jess calmly, arms folded. "I called 911. Guess he came to surprise Lorelai and Rory. Y'know. The way he does."

Jess said a lot in very few words. Moreso than Luke. When Jess spoke, at least the actual meaning was communicated. Luke was pretty sure that when he spoke, he forgot to use the words that meant what he meant. That, or he avoided them on the principle that (excuse 7) he'd be forced to live up or down to them later.

Luke cast his eyes upward as the paramedics arrived. The sign had stopped wobbling. There was no blood on Chris Hayden's head, only a godawful pair of lumps. He was still out cold when the ambulance took off. Shrugging, Luke shooed away the onlookers. He could honestly tell Coop he heard the yelling, saw nothing, and that was it. And he had no reason to believe what he believed beyond a knowledge of a certain sulky nephew's way of showing affection.

To test that knowledge, Luke later remarked to Jess, "I was saving that for Taylor."

"Huh," said Jess, without expression. "You know me. I see a red button, I push a red button."

Luke could've argued it was a white button, but didn't.

After a while, someone knocked on the door.

"Closed!" yelled Jess and Luke in unison.

The knock came again, twice as strong.

Outside stood two Gilmores, eyes red with crying.

"Aw geez," said Luke, and hurried to let them in. "Hey, what is it, what's wrong? I mean, I know Rory's dad fell and hit his head, but..."

Lorelai buried herself in his shoulder, burrowing into his flannel. Shocked beyond delight, Luke decided to hug her. Jess was hugging Rory, and it seemed to work.

"So so _stupid_ ," wept Rory. "He just fuh-fell on some s-slippery stuff and they said the back of his h-h-head hit really ha-hard..."

Alarmed dark eyes hit Luke's. Jess paled. "What? Hey, c'mon, it was just a concussion, right?"

Lorelai's shoulders stopped shaking. She sniffled. "Big. Lots of bad. In his skull. Brain. Died. Sh-sherry just called to t-tell us."

Luke did what he did best. "Here, sit, I'll get you coffee, and, uh, milkshakes."

"Double chocolate," requested the Gilmores in stereo.

"Yeah, I'll pour the coffee," said Jess, and joined his uncle in the back.

"What the hell?" hissed Luke.

"I swear, it didn't actually _hit_ him, just startled him!"

"Later," ordered Luke firmly. "We will discuss this _later_."

Still pale, Jess hurried to give coffee to the Gilmores.

Luke took his time with the milkshakes, and made one for Jess as well. Then he grabbed a glass of water for himself before sitting by Lorelai at the table. The Gilmores were using a lot of paper napkins for tissues. Jess was speaking in a murmur to Rory, who was clinging to him, and Lorelai gave Luke a look of such disbelieving sorrow that he pulled her in for a hug all on his own. There went... Whichever excuse it was. Six? Twenty-eight? Ah geez.

"Thank you," she said. "You always know what I need."

"Yeah, well, that's, uh, how we are. Us. Me. You." Luke grimaced, unable to slap himself since his arms were full. "You're welcome."

A cup of coffee and a milkshake later, Rory said, "Sherry told us he came to Stars Hollow to buy my Christmas present."

"Here?" exclaimed Jess, and at their united glare, he added, "Just saying. Not exactly Macy's."

"A ceramic unicorn," said Rory, face puckered in bewilderment. "He was going to buy me ceramic unicorns."

Luke bristled. Buying Rory those had been _his_ thing, once upon a time.

He and Jess courteously walked the Gilmores home.

On the way back to the diner, Luke said, "You're helping me down that gizmo."

Jess cleared his throat. "We can't drop the sign on Taylor?"

"Nope."

"Huh. Guess I need to get some superglue and chalk."

"Jess."

"Okay, okay, geez. Um. You're not gonna..."

"Turn you in?"

Jess shrank.

Luke shrugged. "All I saw was a guy unconscious on the sidewalk. And you said you pushed a _red_ button."

Jess opened his mouth.

Luke pointed at him. "Save it, or you're cleaning the grease trap."

Jess shut up. He cleared away the cups and glasses. Luke wiped the table.

"Toolbox?" Jess asked morosely, when they'd completed the last ritual of closing.

"Yep."

GG GG GG

 **Season Four: Raincoats and Recipes**

Sookie heard the argument, Lorelai's voice spiraling confused and tight like a poorly done sugar sculpture and Luke's low and ranting like a stew being scorched at the bottom.

She spotted the kiss.

Then she spotted _him_.

 _Christopher_.

The name that had come up in the argument, belonging to the man who thought he could waltz in and out of Lorelai's life, never quite mentioning he was actually technically only on a brief hiatus from things like a fiancée, and now crashed their test run! To think Lorelai had worried about that yucky Jason! Nope, leave it to Christopher!

Who sat in the lobby, reading a book, as if he was not at all concerned about his _wife_ or their _kid_. Or anything but getting Lorelai to turn back into a sixteen-year-old, back to the only time Lorelai felt loved by a guy without fears or reservations, until Chris ruined that, too. The way he ruined _everything_ , often by simply showing up.

Well, fumed Sookie, Lorelai and Luke had _kissed_. A for-real holy-wow kiss.

Nobody was getting in the way of that. _Nobody_.

She studied her slightly too-large kitchen staff. All wonderful people.

She clapped her hands. They looked up, exhausted, from their many tasks.

"Loyalty test!" she decreed. "Okay, who here would be willing to kill to keep this job?"

"Hypothetically, right?" asked someone.

"You're out," she ordered, and pointed to the door. "Now, this is gonna mean blood, bone, and we're talking kibbles and bits. I want someone turned into _compost_. Takers?"

"Why?" asked Manny, quite sensibly.

"I want to make someone happy, and that means someone else has to vanish. Also, I think it'd do wonders for Jackson's tomatoes."

Manny shrugged. By his expression, he'd done odder things in his life.

A hand went up. "Even if this is a joke, I don't think it's funny, so, um, I'm gonna go, but thanks."

Sookie waited for other dissenters. None spoke. She nodded, pleased.

She hustled out into the dining room, murmured to Jackson, who at first went white, then seemed to reconsider.

"Hey, Chris," he said. "Sookie's got some extra desserts in the kitchen."

"Wait, this the guy who ditched Miss Gilmore and her kid?" asked someone, ear pressed to the kitchen door as Chris approached.

Grinning evilly, Sookie replied in Luke-like fashion, "Yep."

The speaker examined his knife with critical appreciation. "I hate deadbeats."

Chris walked into the kitchen.

Jackson said, "I'll see you in a little while, sweetie," and exited.

Sookie smiled. "Hey there, Christopher!"

"Hey, Sookie, Jackson mentioned dessert?"

"Yep," said Sookie happily, wielding one of her many too-sharp knives. " _Just_ desserts!"

GG GG GG

 **Season Five** : **Wedding Bell Blues**

"Ohhhh, since my baby left me..."

"Dear God," announced Richard Gilmore, eyebrows quirking upward. "What on earth is that noise?"

Emily Gilmore did not face-palm. Well-bred high society DAR matrons did _not_ face-palm. But someone's face would indeed feel her palm. "I believe it is Christopher," she said to her newly re-wedded husband.

"Who on earth invited him?" asked Richard with genuine surprise.

Make that two palm-meets-face moments, Emily noted, and almost cringed when Christopher yodeled, "I found a new place to dwell!"

Rory appeared, tugging her clothing straight, with Logan Huntzberger at her elbow. Lorelai and Luke, both angry but seemingly not at each other, appeared a split second later. "What is he doing here?" both Lorelais asked in the same breath.

"Apparently, someone invited him," drawled Richard. "Ah, Emily, the real music is this way, they're playing that lovely waltz..."

Smiling from sheer determination, Emily allowed herself to be danced out to the music of the hired band, as opposed to Christopher Hayden murdering Elvis Presley by way of warbling, "It's dow-ow-ow-own on the end of lo-ho-honely street, it's Heartbreak Hotel."

"Someone shoot him," pled Rory, hands over her face. "Oh my God, this is so embarrassing. I share DNA with that!"

"Kid, I once had sex with it," said Lorelai tartly, "sorry, Luke, but y'know..."

Arms folded, Luke grunted, "Yeah, I know."

"Look, you know he brings out the worst in me, you bring out the best, so what do you say we dance ourselves outta here and..."

Christopher appeared, wielding flutes of champagne. Two in each hand. He dropped to a knee in front of Lorelai as he crooned, "You make me so lonely, baby, I get so lonely..."

Luke's face had turned to puce, Emily noted over Richard's shoulder. Her guests were starting to notice the melodrama rather than her re-unification with Richard. It was time for desperate measures.

Lorelai took some. She nailed Chris in the groin with a kick. While no Gilmore would ever make it to the World Cup, except as a reluctant spectator, Chris toppled to one side. Logan Huntzberger expertly rescued the champagne flutes mid-tumble.

As the waltz and Richard's arms swept her nearer, Emily could just hear Lorelai asking, "Do we let him sleep it off, or do we throw him in a shower, or what?"

"Taxi," said Luke through clenched teeth.

"Save the money, man," said Logan casually, and Emily knew that tone would send the diner man's blood pressure sky-high. "I got it covered. Frank'll take care of it. Give me a hand?"

Their women marching behind, and Lorelai whispering furiously into an abashed Rory's ear, Luke and Logan hauled Christopher from the scene.

Emily exhaled in relief. Now she owed the diner man a small favor, but it was worth it. Really, how idiotic was Christopher? She invited him to convince Lorelai to ditch the flannel-wearing socialist in favor of himself. She had not told him to guzzle two magnums of champagne and break into an impersonation of Elvis that would make Las Vegas cringe.

When the four of them returned, for photographs, Lorelai told her mother they were done. From which Emily deduced that Christopher had blabbed on his way to the limo. Head high, Emily did not waver. She'd done the proper thing for her daughter. Lorelai had chosen Christopher as a teen, and it was disastrous, but anything was better than the burger-flipping nobody.

Once Lorelai had departed, and Emily had a chance to notice the diner man was nowhere in evidence, Rory and Logan came to say their farewells.

Emily beamed at the nice Huntzberger boy. "Thank you for taking care of that appalling little incident."

Logan smiled. "Frank's been with the family a long time. He knows what to do."

Emily had no occasion to look back on those words with any trepidation whatsoever until the funeral of Christopher Hayden. It had quite ruined her post-vow-renewal plans, and didn't that sum up Christopher? Always ruining her plans!

Luke stood stonily between Lorelai and Rory, one weeping on each shoulder. He glared defiantly at Emily as he kissed the top of Lorelai's head.

Ignoring the insipid Francine, and the squalling GG, Emily bee-lined to Logan to ask what had been nagging at her since the news arrived of Christopher's untimely demise. "Logan, dear? Could you answer a tiny little question for me?"

"Of course, Emily," he said.

"Nobody seems willing to mention how exactly dear Christopher passed away. Have you heard..."

"Apparently he was still very drunk and he fell down and broke his neck," said Logan indifferently.

"Yes, I do know that, but fell down what, precisely?"

Logan smiled blandly at Emily. "Something conveniently lethal."

As Emily paled under her make-up, Logan leaned forward and added, "I told you, Frank knows what to do," before he strolled away.

GG GG GG

 **Season Six** : **The Prodigal Daughter Returns**

Luke Danes sweated. It wasn't even warm out, and he was nowhere near the grill, but he was sweating. Badly.

A girl in a bizarre helmet walked into his diner.

It had been over a day, but he still hadn't quite managed to wrap his head around the fact. Not well enough to assign words to it, as in, "Hey, Lorelai? I know you love me, and I love you, and you're really great, but, uh, there's this girl I dated," and it always ended _badly_. Something like screaming, tears, and no chance at all of getting married to Lorelai, but maybe being a father, and when did it get so hard to _breathe_?

He stared woodenly at the television set in his bedroom, installed for Lorelai's pleasure. She'd been so happy and so grateful. And the house renovations were going great and they'd have twins named anything but Sid and Nancy! Right? Unless this April kid turned out to be _his_ kid. Sure, he'd almost thought of marrying Anna Nardini, but he'd at least briefly thought that about any girlfriend who lasted more than six weeks. That was a Danes thing in his Rachel years. Six-plus weeks meant they'd passed the necessary tests. Right? Only Rachel and Nicole and Anna proved that didn't work. Not to mention Anna had cheated, and she could be a cold-hearted control freak when she wanted to be, which was way too often for Luke's taste. Lorelai had her issues, but she knew when to stop and, more importantly, she knew... Well, she knew _him_. She knew when to flirt, when to be serious, when to coax, when to glare, when to wait, and even though she pushed, he'd admit he needed some pushing now and then. But this?

Luke sucked in air. His heart rate had been slower than this when he won track trophies.

He changed the channel. Hartford news. Just the ticket.

Lorelai emerged from the bathroom, wearing a flannel shirt and a pair of his old boxers. Luke thought she looked adorable.

"News?" she asked, cuddling up, smelling fresh and clean and like that sweet stuff she rubbed in her skin.

"Uh, yeah. In the mood," said Luke dully. His head pounded. He'd waited so many years, finally got his butt in gear, and she'd proposed to _him_. It was heady stuff. Like a really good beer during a Bosox sweep of a series, only with hearts and flowers and all the mushy girl crap. And while she hadn't wanted to marry till Rory was straightened out, she'd embraced _plans_. Luke liked plans. They were orderly. Scheduled. Rational. Unlike most of his thoughts at the moment, true, but _plans_. Renovations instead of the Twickham house, sure, but they were making it into _their_ house, something they couldn't have done with the Twickham place. Too much historic untouchability.

"Hey," crooned Lorelai, frowning slightly as she rubbed his bicep. "You okay? I know you say nothing's wrong, but I'm getting a different vibe, babe. The lips say no, the muscle tension says yes."

He felt his muscles creak as he put an arm around her. His conscience shrieked at him to man up, but his confusion told him to shut up until he knew what to say. This was not a case where actions could speak for him. He doubted there was a way to make her a burger that conveyed the message, "Hey, I may have a kid I never knew about!"

He turned up the TV a notch. Lorelai sighed softly and toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. She leaned her temple on his shoulder, and despite himself, Luke began to calm.

The anchor droned, "A federal sting today in Woodbridge netted several people associated with the Dmitrov crime family. The total number of arrests is over fifteen in this sweep to shut down a DNA testing fraud ring."

Since DNA was on his mind, Luke grunted and turned it up another notch. Lorelai also seemed intrigued. "How do you fake DNA?" she wondered.

"...Nardini, a molecular biology technician at Acme Medical Labs, faces over twenty charges for falsifying DNA test results in exchange for cash. Also arrested was Nardini's sister, who accepted a large sum from a Boston man..."

" _What_?" said Luke, his sweat turning cold.

"...to help the man interfere with an ex-girlfriend's current relationship by switching paternity test results. Bizarre but true here in Connecticut."

"Wow," said Lorelai quietly, "that's extreme. Hey, doesn't she look a little like Jess's dad's girlfriend? Y'know, the one in the picture he sent you when he went to California?" (1)

Stunned by the sight of a one-time girlfriend being led away in handcuffs by men in jackets emblazoned with FBI in yellow, Luke replied, "Huh? Uh? Maybe? I guess? Uh. Y'know. Uh. I kinda. Um." Turning off the TV, Luke turned to Lorelai and shut his eyes so he couldn't see her expression. "I dated Anna Nardini. A long time ago. Uh. Before the caterpillar funeral."

"Oh, hon," said Lorelai gently, rubbing his hands with hers. "That's... Wow, that's just _wow_. Are you okay?"

The pressure inside Luke finally popped. He gulped out, "She has a daughter."

"That's awful, who'll take care of her?" fretted Lorelai. "Her mom and uncle in prison? Do they have other family? Luke?"

Somehow, he said it in one word. "She came to the diner day before yesterday and asked for my hair for DNA for her science fair."

Lorelai's massaging hands stilled. "Ah. Okay. I could be a real Samantha here but I think I'll take a few breaths and go for warm and fuzzy and not remind you about the whole no more secrets thing."

"Lorelai, I..."

She rolled away. "We'll talk in the morning. I just... I need to not think about this right now, okay? Because someone was maybe gonna turn out to be your kid and you didn't even tell me they showed up and that's kinda huge even if it was still a maybe."

Lorelai turned her back to him. Luke groaned. "Idiot," he said to himself.

The next morning, Lorelai was gone. She stayed at the house, alone, and they had many intense phone conversations which ended rather abruptly on one end or the other, usually after words like "trust" or "lie" or "friend" came up.

At last, knowing she had Friday night dinner with her parents, he steeled himself. He dressed up in a suit, bought the biggest assortment of junk food available at Doose's, and presented himself at the front door to await her return. With, naturally, six to-go cups of coffee on hand. Luke knew his Lorelai. The suit would say sincerity, the junk food was as good as groveling, and the coffee was the Luke Danes equivalent of a shiny piece of jewelry.

She didn't come.

And didn't come.

Finally, she did come, tousled, tear-streaked, carrying her heels in one hand.

He sprang up, ran to her, and swept his suit jacket around her. "Where's your coat, are you okay, what's wrong, what happened, where's your car, where were you?"

Sniffling, she asked, "Why weren't you in the diner? It's Friday night. You have to be in the _diner_!"

He pointed awkwardly at the bag from Doose's, the now-cold coffee, and himself. "I was waiting for you so I could apologize. Shh, don't cry, we'll figure this out, it's okay, I..."

"Chris is _dead_."

Luke's immediate response was, "I didn't do it!"

Lorelai slapped his arm. "I know that!"

Luke relaxed. "C'mon, inside."

While she curled up on the couch and wept into some tissues, he reheated the coffee and handed her a box of chocolate candies. She accepted the coffee but not the chocolate. Luke suppressed a shudder of fear at that sign of impending Armageddon.

He cuddled her, pulling a blanket over her. "Shh. Tell me. What happened?"

"Nuh-nuh- _Nardinis_."

" _What_?"

Lorelai squirmed until her face was tight in his shoulder. "He's the one who hired her to have her kid get your DNA so her brother could fake the test so it'd look like you were her kid's father and mess us up and he paid her like fifty thousand dollars! I mean, I don't care if you have kids, or a kid, I mean, we want kids, right, and I have a kid, so it's a shock but not like the end of the world shock, not like what did Britney do to her hair now shock, it's just..."

"Breathe," he requested, mind reeling. "Rory's _dad_ paid for it?"

"The FBI tracked Rory down at Friday night _dinner_ , and..."

"Oh God, how's Rory?"

"A mess. She's with my parents."

He stroked her curls, hating Nardinis, Christopher and himself in almost equal measure. "Wait, how did this end up with Christopher, uh, passing away?"

"Dead men can't testify," sobbed Lorelai. "Right out of _Goodfellas_." Her shoulders hitched. "And that poor little GG has to be raised by Francine now! Oh God, how did this get so _Twin Peaks_? (2) No, wait, wrong show..."

"Lorelai!"

She blinked up at him, pale and fragile.

He wiped her tears away with his thumbs. "I am so sorry Chris is gone. I know he was special to you."

"It's just..." Lorelai snuffled and snuggled. "Please, please tell me there's nothing else I should know that I don't? You're not secretly having alien pod babies, right? The diner isn't serving soylent green, right?"

"Okay, no more coffee," said Luke firmly, and held her tight. "You know everything. No secrets, no lies, and I never mentioned Anna because I forgot she existed."

She sighed heavily.

Meanwhile, Luke pondered the twists of fate. He'd never thought Christopher Hayden capable of the kind of organization needed to hire a private investigator, dig into Luke's past even deeper than the Gilmores had, find someone with a kid about the right age, and pay to have a DNA test faked... All to screw up his relationship with Lorelai. A mob hit seemed like pretty fair karma for that.

Maybe he'd send the Nardinis a thank-you note.

GG GG GG

 **Season Seven** : **The Long Morrow**

Alarmed by Lorelai's incoherent sobs on the phone, Christopher made sure GG was with a last-minute nanny, and sped to Stars Hollow.

Time to ride in on his silver steed, er, Volvo, and come to his fair princess's rescue! Dumb mean greasy flannel guy had broken Lorelai, and now he, Christopher, would put her back together. Not only redeeming twenty years of doing too little, but also guaranteeing he had a mother for his second daughter who might know how to stop the crying. Chris had heard no such tales of Rory, and so presumed this meant GG inherited the brain-rupturing screaming from Sherry. Best of all, no courtship required. They'd known each other too long to court, woo, or all that. They had history. Glorious history! Fun and games and tequila! He'd be free at last!

He pulled to a halt outside Lorelai's house, despising the renovations. Old Reliable Diner Man had not followed through. So much for all those years of Lorelai harping on Christopher's inadequacies!

He knocked on the front door, but nobody answered.

He grinned. Just like old times, he thought, he'd sneak up to her bedroom window.

Which one was that?

Shrugging, Christopher clambered awkwardly into a tree to start peeping in windows. It did occur to him, briefly, that he might see _that_ guy, but he doubted it. Lorelai's tears indicated catastrophe. At last, she had no reasons to say _no_!

And, of course, neither did he.

Unable to see clearly, what with foliage and all that weird tree stuff, Christopher climbed higher. He'd peer _down_. That would work.

While no one claimed Lorelai had any athletic prowess, she did have a competitive streak and grace. She'd shown it often as a girl, crawling out windows and down from balconies. Christopher knew he was indifferent at most physical exertions other than those needed to stay trim for his tailor, but how hard could it be to climb around in a tree to get a view in some windows? Peeping toms did it every day. Ergo, it couldn't be difficult.

One of the many subjects Christopher had barely passed in school happened to be physics.

That occurred to him when, in trying to get from one side of the tree to the other, he discovered he was on a wrong side entirely. (Having lacked any genius at geometry, Chris also failed to understand that trees didn't really have nice tidy sides like, say, a square drawn on a piece of paper.)

He climbed higher, thinking that he'd just jump onto the roof, like a stealthy sexy ninja. Admittedly, in designer jeans and a silk shirt, but Chris didn't have time or opportunity to alter his wardrobe for the occasion.

Sadly, the roof he aimed for was not only the wrong roof, but happened to be a roof attached to a house surrounded by little shadows.

The branch underfoot snapped as he failed to launch heroically into the air.

Belatedly, Chris realized stealth mode was not the best option, and he probably should've paid more attention to things like momentum, force, gravity, trajectory, and all that other nerd stuff.

The lumps of darkness below turned out not to be plants, but odd little midget shapes.

One of which had a _very_ pointy hat on its head.

He yelped briefly, and the last thing he heard was a shrill rasping, "Morey! Call the police! There's thieves in the gnomes again! Oh, they better not hurt Pierpont!"

GG GG GG

AN: Death by Michel; death by staircase; death by diner sign; death by Sookie; death by limo driver; death by mobster hit; and, of course, death by gnome.

(1) Sherilyn Fenn, best known to _Gilmore Girls_ fans as Anna Nardini, played the girlfriend of Jess's father Jimmy in "Here Comes the Son", episode 3.21. I had to do it. Bad me.

(2) At the time of this writing, Fenn was rumored to be in the _Twin Peaks_ remake.


End file.
